


purple and red (spirit and life)

by insatiablegaydesire



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Coming Out, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, M/M, New Year's Eve, New York City, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Stanley Uris Lives, Tenderness, so much fucking tenderness you dont even know, that liminal space of long drives at night with someone you love where no one exists but each other, very emo metaphors revolving the pride flag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28472631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insatiablegaydesire/pseuds/insatiablegaydesire
Summary: New Year's Eve, 2016, just a few months after the beginning and the end. Richie and Eddie are both alone, until they're not, heading East down a long road, the ocean their final destination. On the ride there, some inevitable truths come to light.Richie Tozier couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t rung in the New Year completely, utterly alone. Sure, he’d had his fair share of kisses at midnight. Fueled by hours of choked down shots of too-sweet liquor, hugging the wall at a party he didn’t belong to, he accepted the first woman who came his way and offered him her lips. It was purely for show, for anyone who happened to be watching. Maybe even for himself, to prove that he could do it. But always, the morning after, he awoke with his head on the cold tile floor, forehead knocking porcelain bowl, and the scent of bitter acid strung out in the air. He’d pick himself up, clean off the mess, and begin the New Year as he always did. Alone.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 22
Kudos: 117





	purple and red (spirit and life)

**Author's Note:**

> seven hours ago my friend mary said fic where richie and eddie take a late night drive and i went fully insane
> 
> find me on:  
>  [twitter](https://twitter.com/unibrowrichie)  
> [tumblr](https://sapphicsansastark.tumblr.com)

Richie Tozier couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t rung in the New Year completely, utterly alone. Sure, he’d had his fair share of kisses at midnight. Fueled by hours of choked down shots of too-sweet liquor, hugging the wall at a party he didn’t belong to, he accepted the first woman who came his way and offered him her lips. It was purely for show, for anyone who happened to be watching. Maybe even for himself, to prove that he could do it. But always, the morning after, he awoke with his head on the cold tile floor, forehead knocking porcelain bowl, and the scent of bitter acid strung out in the air. He’d pick himself up, clean off the mess, and begin the New Year as he always did. Alone.

So it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for 2016 going on 2017 to be the same. No Hollywood coke-riddled parties this time, but still the same lack of presence, still the cold touch of nothing against his skin. Sometimes he thought it was better this way. At least alone, no one else could watch as he fell apart. The main difference between this year and the last was that now he had six new numbers programmed into his phone, a head full of memories to go along with them. Stan was still in Georgia; Mike down in Florida for the month. Bill was back in LA; Bev and Ben up near the Adirondacks enjoying some much deserved peace. Eddie was in New York, so, of course, Richie was too. Forty years old and he was still trailing dutifully behind his best friend, waiting for the spare scrap of attention thrown his way. He’d even thought maybe he’d get it tonight.

But Eddie was fresh off an official spousal separation, in a new apartment, and he wanted to be alone. Had told Richie that much when he’d not-so-subtly asked about Eddie’s New Year’s plans. A lifetime spent underneath a mother’s thumb, then a wife’s. Richie didn’t blame him. He needed this time to find himself, to figure out what he actually wanted, and Richie was more than willing to put a little distance between them. He was still following, but with added steps. A borough away instead of in the same building. 

Brooklyn was everything Richie never thought he’d have. The gentrified breweries were more amusing than interesting, and the coffeeshops were too crowded for his tastes, but there were Pride flags hanging off the windows of the apartment across the street. Richie liked to go out to his balcony at night to smoke, light up and take in the colors of the rainbow as they glowed under the yellow-tinted street lights. As the THC kicked in, he let the hues bleed into his vision, blocking out everything else that ever was. He still hadn’t said it out loud yet. Every night, he tried. But he was always one for cottonmouth, raddled brain routinely forgetting to bring out a glass of water to loosen the dryness in his throat, and so the confession came off more as a wheeze than a cry, and he told himself he’d try again next time. For now, he named the colors in his mind. He wondered what they meant. He told himself he’d Google it after the joint was done, but as luck would have it, he always forgot. 

Eddie was up in Queens, about an hour subway ride away, in a one-bedroom apartment looking over the Boulevard. He said he liked the noise of the cars below as he slept, the occasional honking that would interrupt throughout the hour. He’d gotten used to it when he and Myra lived in Manhattan. She’d opted for earplugs, grumbling about the bastards before falling into dreams, while he let them sing him to sleep. Now that he was sleeping alone, the noise acted as company. Something familiar, yet safe, to guide him into his new life.

Richie tried not to think too much about how Eddie associated noise with safety. That was dangerous territory, same as watching the neighbor’s flags in the daylight.

But it was night now, and darkness made the barriers Richie put up in his own mind fall down of their own accord. He flicked open his lighter, burned the end of the stick in his hand, and began his nightly ritual of counting off colors. He wondered which one Eddie would like best. Richie’d bet on red.

***

It was somewhere in between Richie losing feeling in his toes and the latest repetition of orange in his head when he got the text from Eddie.

_“Come now,”_ was all it said. 

It was somewhere in between reading the word come and reading the word now when Richie stubbed out the last of the burning joint beneath his shoe and opened the balcony door. Water chugged, keys grabbed, front door shut and locked behind him. He jogged down his creaking building stairs until he reached the underground garage, then unlocked his car with a click and slid into the driver’s seat. Was he too high for this? Usually he would be, but Eddie had caught him early, and even if he was, nothing could keep him from going. This time of night it was faster on the road than on the subway, so he turned the key in the ignition and sent a quick prayer to a god he didn’t believe in that some drunk cyclist wouldn’t crash into him and sue. He could afford the case, but not the press. His celebrity reputation was currently crawling on paper thin ice. Who knew where it would be if he ever got the courage to break the news.

It was a 15-minute drive; Richie got there in 10. No cyclists this time, but for a second there he thought he almost hit a stray pigeon just hanging out in the middle of a street in Williamsburg. He realigned his car with the singular lane, glanced in the rearview mirror, saw that it was fine, still bobbing its head down to the curb gutters for crumbs, and breathed out a sigh of relief. The last thing he needed tonight was a poor bird’s blood on his hands. He glanced down at his hands on the wheel at the thought, expecting to find splashback of scarlet embedded under his fingernails, but as always, there was none. He tried not to think about Derry. Not to ponder on what he was forced to do. For the rest of the drive, he watched the street with a more careful eye.

Eddie was leaning against the beaten brick wall of his building when he arrived. He pushed himself off it when he saw Richie’s car, approached the passenger window and knocked for him to roll it down. Richie did so, all while ignoring what this would look like to any passerby who might happen to see. Famous comedian picking up a lone traveler on the side of the street, who was now leaning through the open window to strike up a chat. Only thing that would make this situation better was for Richie to pull a wad of twenties out of his wallet and hand it over. 

“Thank God, you’re here,” Eddie sighed. Another thing Richie ignored: how the sound of Eddie’s voice immediately lit something up inside him, a flame that couldn’t be snuffed. “I need to get the fuck out.”

“What happened?” 

“My skin feels like it’s crawling, man. I can’t do it, I need to _go.”_

There were plenty of things Richie could respond with, some he even played out in his mind.

_“This is what you consider an emergency?”_

_“You called me here just to steal my car?”_

_“What the fuck, dude?”_

Richie waved them all off with a mindless shake of his head and tossed Eddie his keys, already unbuckling his seatbelt and opening his door. “Come on. We’ll be late to the party.”

They switched places, paths meeting by the trunk, Richie awkwardly side-stepping around Eddie while Eddie simply gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. They never were ones for saying thank yous out loud.

Once situated in their respective seats, it didn’t take long for their unique brand of conversations to start. 

“Why the fuck do you have such a nice car?” Eddie bit out, letting his annoyed gaze settle over all its features. Leather interior, darkened windows, the latest high-tech advancements. Richie wasn’t a car person, but Steve was, so a year ago he’d asked him to pick out something nice. It was only now that he remembered who he’d been trying so hard to impress.

“Why the fuck not?” Richie said.

Eddie started the car, watched as all the features turned on with the added sound of a grouping of soft piano notes. “How often do you even drive this thing?”

Richie shrugged. “I don’t know, once every couple of weeks. I’m more of a train guy.”

“I hate you. Such a nice fucking car, and you don’t even get any use out of it.” Eddie rubbed a careful hand over the stainless dashboard, almost soothing it with his touch.

“Are you caressing my car?” Richie asked, words slowly falling out as the realization hit him.

“I’m _appreciating_ it.”

Richie pressed his lips together to avoid a smile he knew Eddie would undoubtedly get on him about. “Yeah, that doesn’t make it sound any less sexual, bud.”

“Put your seatbelt on and shut the fuck up.”

“Yes, sir.” The click of Richie’s seatbelt was accompanied by a click of his own tongue. Out of his peripheral vision, he swore he saw Eddie smile. “So where are we going on this fine evening?”

Eddie adjusted the seat, speaking to the floor more than Richie when he said, “Away. I can’t stand the noise of this city right now.”

Something pricked itself inside Richie, but he tried to ignore it as he responded. “Need some quiet?”

“Like I need air to breathe.” Seat adjusted, Eddie let his back meld into the cushioning, turning to face Richie. “It’s just so fucking suffocating, you know?”

Richie did know. It was almost something like self-punishment, the way he kept flocking to cities, as if surrounding himself with millions of people would make him feel any less alone. In the end, all it did was make him feel claustrophobic. Some days he almost longed for the open skies above an empty quarry, sun beating down on his shoulders and leaving a burn behind so he couldn’t forget. “Funny you pick me, then, if it’s quiet you need. Though I’m really just your last option, aren’t I?

“What?” Eddie’s brows narrowed a divot into his forehead, a simple shape that flashed Richie back thirty years.

“I mean, I can try to shut up for you, but we both know I’ll be blabbing again only two minutes in.”

The divot deepened. “Who said I wanted you to shut up?”

Richie’s head tilted of its own accord, disbelief crowding his features. “Uh, you. Literally like a minute ago.”

“I wanted you to shut up so we could get going. Now that we’re going, feel free to let loose.” Eddie flapped a hand in the air as if that finalized the conversation.

“Are you sure about that? Richie Tozier letting loose is quite a ride.”

“Believe me, I know.” Eddie locked eyes with Richie across the center console, and just for a moment, it was like they were children again, teasing each other on bicycle seats and leaning across the gap between them to poke and prod. Reality snapped back when Eddie’s smile disappeared. “Wait, are you high?”

“No,” Richie said quickly, but he knew he gave himself away the moment his eyes immediately darted down to the floor. For all he hid, he never was a good liar when it came to direct confrontation. 

“You’re _high_.” The divot was replaced with open space as Eddie’s brows flew up his forehead. “You drove like this? Are you serious?”

“You told me to come now!”

“I didn’t think you’d operate heavy machinery fucking _inebriated!”_

The word itself made Richie laugh, which quickly turned into a cough, ghost of cottonmouth past returned. Eddie dug a water bottle somewhere out within his coat and handed it over, Richie gulping it down like air.

“Yeah, you’re definitely high,” Eddie said.

“Hey man, it’s New Year’s Eve, leave me alone, I was having fun.”

“Getting high alone? That’s your version of fun?”

“Well what were you doing?” Richie asked.

Eddie’s mouth twitched to the side. “Watching HGTV.”

“House Hunters? Wow, yeah, I’m sorry, clearly you have the fun advantage here.” The sarcasm felt so thick it filled the entire space of the car, inside of their lungs and all.

But, as always, Eddie was capable of cutting through. “It’s an entertaining show!”

“And I completely believe you.” Richie couldn’t keep his face straight for longer than a few seconds, dissolving into laughter once more. Eddie joined him this time, and the sound lifted Richie’s heart.

“This is nice,” Eddie said, the sarcasm of the past moment gone. “Ringing in the New Year with you.”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather be with some pretty lady?” Richie joked.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Richie didn’t have a witty response for that. Eddie didn’t bother to elaborate. They settled into a silence instead, Richie tapping out a rhythm on the leather armrest as Eddie drove, the methodical turning over of tires hitting asphalt playing on in the background. Soon enough, the apartment buildings turned into small houses on small plots of land, clean cut lawns buried underneath last week’s dusting of snow. Long Island stretched before them, the city in their wake. It almost reminded Richie of home, his first home, the one that would always be considered home no matter how many places he moved to. Derry wasn’t so easily left behind like that. Small towns never were, he supposed. The suburbia in itself was suffocating as well, and he wondered if Eddie felt it the same. By the way he continuously reached into his pocket without thought, hoping to retrieve something but every time coming up loose, he was.

Richie didn’t know who let the words come out of his mouth, whether he meant it as a distraction or an opening, but the person signing off the permission certainly wasn’t him as he asked, “What’s your favorite color of the rainbow?”

That startled Eddie out of his repeat pocket-fishing. “What?”

“You know,” Richie continued. “Your favorite color.”

Eddie took a second to tear his eyes away from the road to glance at Richie. “Why the rainbow though? I’ve never heard it asked like that.”

“Never mind, forget it.” Richie stretched his legs out in front of him, actually thanking Steve for once for the added passenger space.

“No, Jeez, just let me think for a minute.” Richie gave him that minute as Eddie thought, Eddie’s eyes still on the road and Richie’s on him. “Red,” he finally said.

Richie took the response and rolled it over in his head. “Huh.”

“Why huh?”

“It’s what I thought you’d say.”

“What’s yours?” Eddie asked.

“My what?”

“Favorite color, dumbass.” Eddie caught himself and smiled, rolling his eyes. “Oh, sorry, favorite color _of the rainbow.”_

Richie ignored the jab. “I like purple, I think.”

“Violet.”

“What?”

“If it’s on the rainbow, it’s called violet,” Eddie said. “ROY G BIV, asshole.”

“Always a stickler for the rules.” _And the loving nicknames_ , went unsaid in Richie’s head.

“The rules mean I’m correct.” They rolled to a stop at a traffic light, the only car in the intersection. Eddie took the chance to look at Richie once more. “Violet, really? I would’ve guessed, like, yellow or something. Something loud.”

“Violet can be loud,” Richie protested. 

“Well, sure, I guess. But it’s dark. Something you really aren’t.”

“I could be dark if I wanted to.” This time, the protestation was a little quieter. 

Eddie scoffed. “Yeah, right. You’re the most loving person I know.”

Richie’s eyes widened as he turned his head nearly 90 degrees. “You call me an asshole twice a day!”

“Because you are one! But you’re a loving asshole, y’know?”

“A loving asshole.”

“Exactly.” The light turned green, and Eddie eased his foot off the brake. “You know, I once read something about the meaning of colors. The guy who made the original Pride flag assigned a word to each one.”

Richie could hear his heartbeat in the skin of his ears. “Really?”

“Yeah. But I can’t remember for the life of me what each meant. It was years ago, before Myra and I even married. Mind looking it up for me?”

Here it was, the moment Richie had been waiting for for years. Always forgot, but here Eddie was to remind him, like when they were kids and Richie left his bike in places unknown, reliant on Eddie’s own childlike version of control to remember for him. Eventually, Eddie just took to reminding him before they left any place. It was a routine that Richie was thankful for, though he never said it. He didn’t think Eddie ever expected him to.

He pulled out his phone with shaking fingers, taking a moment to still the movement by slowly pushing his glasses up his nose. “It says here violet represents spirit.”

“Hmm. Makes sense. You’ve got a lot of that.” Still facing forward, Eddie didn’t notice how Richie wore his emotions on his sleeve. “And red?”

“Life,” Richie managed to choke out, coughing into his elbow to hide the scratchiness of his throat.

“Life,” Eddie repeated to himself. He repositioned his hands on the steering wheel, taking them further East.

Just as the city blurred into suburbia, it wasn’t long before suburbia blurred into an ironically quaint gathering of oceanside mansions. The houses got far and few in between as they drove on, growing larger and increasingly elaborate. Twenty miles from the tip of the island, Richie pointed out a mansion up a hill, standing tall with lights strung all the way to the roof, a white glow enveloping the Cape Cod style boards. Even multi-millionaires wanted their houses to look beaten by the sea. Though neither spoke it aloud, they both remembered seeing Bill’s aunt on the coast, the lobsters his uncle brought in after a long summer’s day. This was how they lived their lives now. Every day, something as simple as an old wooden board gave them something old to make new.

Five minutes to midnight, they reached the end of the road. Montauk Point. Eddie put the car in park in the lot next to the lighthouse, left the headlights on and let them light up the sea down below. “It’s been years since I’ve seen the ocean,” he said.

“Really?” Richie wasn’t sure if he believed it or not.

Neither of them made any move to unbuckle their seatbelts.

“Never had time.”

Richie let himself slip back into memories, the ones in between Derry and Derry. “I used to go all the time back in LA, but it always felt wrong, somehow. Too sandy.”

“Spoken like a true New England boy,” Eddie said with a smile.

“Maybe I’m a masochist, but I prefer beaches with rocks that cut up the bottoms of your feet.” 

Both winced in shared memory, shores and wounds from long ago.

“I missed it,” Eddie said.

Richie screwed up his face. “Cutting up your feet?”

“No, asshole.” Eddie leaned over to push Richie lightly into the window. “The water.”

Richie settled into his new window seat. Eddie had chosen it, so he accepted gratefully. “Why did you never drive out and see it?”

“Five hours, there and back, I never could. Myra would’ve called up a missing person’s report in that time.”

“No vacations?” Richie asked.

“She doesn’t like the beach,” Eddie countered.

“But you do.” That was something else Richie remembered, the way Eddie would light up surrounded by water. Knocked around by waves, bruising elbows and bleeding feet, but he didn’t care as long as he could stay.

Here, now, Eddie shook his head. “My marriage was never about what I wanted.”

“So, this. This is what you want.” 

Richie meant the ocean, but Eddie was looking at him when he said, “Absolutely.”

The clock on the dashboard read 11:58.

“Eddie,” Richie started. But he couldn’t continue, didn’t know what to say.

Eddie said it for him. “I know.”

Richie’s heart felt torn apart, put back together, healed with stitches and kisses then ruined again with a punch. He felt his own breath high up in the back of his throat, the intake matching the rapid beating of his heart. “You do?”

“Yeah. I do.”

11:59.

Eddie wordlessly unclicked his own seatbelt, leaned over to help Richie with his own. “It’s okay,” he said, voice soft like he was afraid he’d break. Whether the one breaking would be Richie or Eddie himself was a question left unanswered.

“Eddie,” Richie said again.

“I know,” Eddie repeated.

Those were the words, but there were so many other things said behind them. They were never ones for thank yous, so it only made sense that I love yous followed suit.

Neither saw the clock read 12:00 when their lips met, and neither saw it pass to 12:01, 12:02, 12:03, 12:04 before they pulled apart for good. 

“Happy New Year’s, Rich,” Eddie muttered against his mouth.

“Happy fuckin’ New Year’s,” Richie whispered shakily. He could feel Eddie’s own stubble against his as he spoke, their cheeks pressing together in lieu of their lips. The ocean roared below at a distance, quieter and less interesting than the beat of their shared breaths. He closed his eyes, and something like purple flashed behind them. “Hey, Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gay.”

Richie’s eyes stayed closed, but he could feel Eddie’s hands as he took his face in them, his lips as they touched on his forehead, then his breath as he spoke back into the shared space between their mouths. “So am I.”

Richie opened them, and though everything in him felt like crying, he didn’t. “What a fucking miracle that is, huh?”

“Probably the only one we’ll ever get.” The statement should’ve been sad, but it filled them both with something that could only be described as euphoria.

“How is it that we killed an actual murder clown from space yet this is the most scared I’ve ever been in my life?”

“Your priorities are a little twisted, I’ll give you that.”

Richie turned his head to the side, facing the windshield. His temple connected with Eddie’s forehead, and the touch felt grounding. 

“You want to go home?” Eddie asked.

_Home._ The word felt foreign, yet so familiar coming off his tongue.

“No.” Richie watched as the lighthouse’s beam circled and circled, a beacon for no travelers but them. “You said you missed the ocean, right?”

Eddie hummed an affirmation in response.

“So let’s go see it.”

“In that cold? You sure?”

Richie huddled in ever closer to Eddie at the mention of temperature, burying the top half of his face in his neck.“We’ve both got coats, we’ll be fine. Besides... it’s not as if I’m letting you go that easy.”

Eddie cracked a smile. “I always imagined you clingy.”

Richie lifted his head, glanced upwards. “You imagined me?”

Eddie startled, then took only a second to realign. “All the time. Never knew who you were, of course, but... you were there, one way or another.”

“I bought this car because of you,” Richie said. Whispered, more like, the way it barely fell out of his mouth with a sound.

“Really?” Eddie’s volume matched his own.

“I’m shit at driving,” Richie confessed. With that said, the rest of the words came falling out. “I never liked it. Always thought it was a hassle. But I always felt like there was somebody in my life, in my future, that disagreed.”

Eddie stayed quiet for a moment before he spoke, a confession of his own leaving his tongue. “I kept a Buddy Holly CD for years, even though I hate the sound of his voice. Sometimes I’d still play it though, because I got this feeling in my chest when I listened.”

“A good feeling?” Richie asked.

“Indescribably so,” Eddie answered.

“Guess we’ve both been hung up on each other, huh?”

Eddie didn’t bother to answer, starting up another line of conversation on his own. “I keep on buying licorice.”

The memory hit Richie like a bullet. “You hate licorice.”

“Yeah, but you don’t.”

Richie let out a low whistle. “Jesus. How long would we have kept going?”

“I don’t know. But now we’ll never have to know.”

“I think I was,” Richie said. “Prepared to keep going.”

“Well, now you don’t have to.”

The moment stayed between them until Richie cracked open the passenger door, kissed Eddie once for warmth before hopping out into the cold. “C’mon,” he said as he slipped his arms back into insulated sleeves. “Before the fireworks stop.”

“Fireworks?”

Richie gaped as Eddie craned out his neck to see beyond the windshield, taking in the exploding colors far above. “You really didn’t notice?”

“I was a little busy,” Eddie said with just a hint of bite.

“Yeah, well, you want to get busy again?” Richie called out, words fogging up in the air before him. “Shit’s freezing out here!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, popping open the driver’s door and joining Richie as they walked down the old wooden stairs descending into sand. His steps were so determined, he slid when they first touched down on shore. Richie caught him before he could fall.

“Well, isn’t that romantic?” Richie asked, eyes glimmering.

“Thanks,” Eddie said as he caught his breath. He regained his footing, one hand leaning on Richie’s arm for support. 

The single word opened something up within him. “I love you.”

Eddie’s hand tensed on Richie’s arm, gripping his sleeve with sudden force. He wet his bottom lip with his tongue, turned around until he faced Richie instead of the sea. “Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Eddie broke out into a smile. “Again.”

“I love you.” Richie couldn’t help the smile on his own face now, the pair growing giddy like they were two dozen years younger and discovering the feeling for the first time.

They were both smiling when Eddie leaned up to kiss him again, both mumbling I love yous into the skin next to their mouths, against the hairs of their upper lips. _I love you, I love you, I love you._

They repeated the duet until the fireworks stopped, until Richie noticed and let Eddie in on the secret, so dedicated to the act as he was that there was no chance he’d heard. “The ocean,” Richie said.

Eddie nipped softly at Richie’s lower lip. “What about it?”

“You wanted to see.”

“I’m busy.”

Richie laughed, the contortion ruining any attempt Eddie made to kiss him silent. “We’re going to be busy for a while, aren’t we?”

“For the rest of our lives.”

The statement took Richie’s breath right from his lungs, but Eddie moved on like nothing had happened. He took the chance to kiss him again, gave him the breath that he needed, and then they moved on. Once Eddie was content, he turned back to the water, took Richie by the hand and led him down the shore. 

Neither of them wore watches, their phones left behind in the car, so neither of them knew how long they stayed out there. Could’ve been an hour, or ten minutes, or a lifetime. When they returned to the car, both were too busy to check the clock, and then both were too focused on the road and their thoughts. Eddie drove all the way back to Richie’s place, where he parked and without conversation joined Richie in walking upstairs. As Eddie shut the front door behind them, Richie slid his phone out of his pocket and onto the counter. The time read 3:48. Through the window, across the street, the Pride flag waved in the yellow light. Most of the parties were long done by now, everyone tucked in and asleep, or just passed out, waiting for the first sunrise of the year to arouse them from dreams. As Eddie took a look around, trailing his hand across tables, Richie watched the flag. It was more mobile tonight. The red and purple stripes were on opposite ends, but every once in a while, the wind would twist the cloth around and they would touch, a never ending repetition of colors, just like the mantra Richie would say to himself each night around a lighted stick. He always began with red, always ended with purple, but every time they circled back upon one another.

“You coming to bed?” Eddie said, voice quiet again, the loud yell from the beach forgotten.

Richie tore his eyes from the colors. “Yeah. Just a minute.”

He waited until Eddie went into the bedroom before opening his balcony door. He breathed in the cold air through his nose, felt as it passed into his body and back out. The flag simply waved. Like it knew his secret, even if he never did say it out loud. A beckon, rather than a taunt. Maybe it was all the adrenaline rushing through Richie’s system, maybe it was the oxytocin running through his veins, but he felt something, and that _something_ was more than anything he’d ever felt come New Year’s Day before.

He opened the door, went back inside. Kissed Eddie after he fell into bed. Held him as he slept. Now that he wasn’t alone, the suffocation of the city was gone. He breathed easy, a back against his chest, a shoulder resting beneath his crooked chin. Before the final moments of wakefulness left him, he made a mental note for the morning. _Ask the neighbors where they got their flag._

Eddie made one of his own. _End the lease._


End file.
